


Saved Snippets

by BadassIndustries



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Capital R Romantic, Claqueleroy, Dark Fae AU, M/M, Other, Romantic Friendship, cw blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadassIndustries/pseuds/BadassIndustries
Summary: Archiving some Tumblr snippets, just in case. This collection includes:1.On the Necessity of Drama, Romantic Friendship Bahorel & Jehan Prouvaire, Canon Era Fluffy Comedy2.In the Darkness, Fauntleroy/Claquesous, Canon Era Dark Fae AU





	1. On the Necessity of Drama

**On the Necessity of Drama**

“Bahorel!”

The persistent voice had been accompanied by a loud banging on his door for the past five minutes. Bahorel did not feel like getting up to open it. He had not moved since this morning, when he had collapsed upside down on his sopha after returning from the dramatic reading of Pierre’s play. Pierre’s work was better enjoyed through a thorough haze of illegal indulgences and he would quite like to stay here for a few hours more.

“Bahorel, it’s me!”

Bahorel pulled his dressing gown further over his head and pondered this for a while. Of course the intruder was a me. Every speaker has an identity to speak of. Even if that identity was a dashed inconvenient one, calling when all Bahorel wanted to do was melt into the cushions. Thank the Republic that he had had the foresight to close the curtains. The dark smoky ambience suited his mood perfectly. If only the dratted visitor would take a hint.

“Bahorel, it’s Prouvaire. I need your help!”

That changed things. Bahorel was always at home to friends in need, and particularly for Jehan Prouvaire. With great effort, he heaved himself up to open the door. Jehan fell upon him the moment it opened sufficiently to let him through.

“Bahorel! I need you! I am to see Coriolanus tonight, but Jean-Jacques has heard whispers that Davide will come in costume to pretend he’s more of a free thinker than we are. Remember how he said that Thibaut’s manuscript was shackled by today’s propriety? He’s trying to overshadow everyone with some costume he had his mistress make for him. I need a toga!”

Romantic fervour had overtaken Jehan Prouvaire. He stood tall and full of idealistic pride. In his hands he clutched a white sheet, artistic fire in his eyes. He pulled Bahorel back in by his robe, leaving his willing captive ample opportunity to despair over Jehan’s green doublet and yellow breeches.

“To think, Bahorel, he plans to show us all up, pretend we are all unimaginative.”

“Bah!” cried Bahorel, “the man carries an umbrella to protect those stupid curls of his. He denies it of course, but I’ve seen it. We can surely do better than  _that_.”

Jehan flew into his arms, kissed him soundly, and threw himself down on the sopha.

“I mean to portray Corialanus at the moment of death. I’ll need at least Aufidius’ footprint. And preferably some blood.”

Bahorel grinned.

“My friend, how would you feel about a sword?”

He was already plotting. A toga would be good, but armour would be better. Prouvaire in an artistic rage was a beautiful thing. Soon, they would go to the butcher’s to get enough pig’s blood to make the costume properly gruesome. Everyone knew Davide fainted at the sight of blood. Bahorel smiled and let himself fall down, landing half on the rapidly talking Jehan, who took no notice of this attack. Life could always use some more drama.


	2. In the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fauntleroy/Claquesous, Canon era Dark Fae AU

Fauntleroy carefully cleaned their knives. The silver shone merrily. Things were always prettier after they’d been washed in blood. Their victim had carried silver in his pockets. They picked it up from the floor, considering. He had tried to bargain for his life with the shiny little coins. Silver didn’t do the man much good, he ought to have carried iron instead. But in this age of science and enlightenment, nobody listened to the stories about the dark. Fauntleroy considered the man’s top hat. It wasn’t pretty enough to win a favour from a friend, so they let it lie. They only wanted the silver in his pockets and the last words from his lips. And perhaps his cravat. It looked to be fine silk. It would make a beautiful sound when it tore.  
They left the body in the alley and walked towards the darkness. As a child, Fauntleroy always loved the glint of light in the darkness. This always puzzled their parents. As a baby, their precious child had been afraid of the dark. They didn’t notice when their little darling had started smiling at the shadows with sharp teeth. Now, even in a city that seemed forever lit by merry candles, Fauntleroy could still find the dark. And whenever they did, foolish men and women followed them, never to be seen again.  
  
They wandered the streets until they found the darkness the lamplight ought to have chased away. They smiled their sharp smile and danced towards it. With a laugh like crystal shattering, Fauntleroy stepped into the Shadow’s embrace. This darkness had arms to hold them tight and a face they saw only when they closed their eyes. Claquesous was a man made of shadows. He had a thousand faces and endless voices and all who saw him feared him. But Fauntleroy felt no fear. They had found him in the shadows and they had kept him. He, like them, could see worlds that were not always there. Like them, he owed no one allegiance. This city lay restless under the reign of a twofaced king, but Fauntleroy knew it was not this court they once owed fealty to. A long time ago, they played under a throne of bones in a land of eternal summer. But they got sent away to this land to live a mortal life. To live away from the lords and ladies, at the whim of the Faerie Queen. To be away from the Court was to enjoy a peculiar freedom. Freedom felt like a beautiful dance, like the freshest fruit or the sound of a heart when it stopped beating. And they were free. Free to find all they thought was beautiful. Free to laugh and destroy. Free to love the shadows with all their heart.  
They took their shadow by the hand and danced with him into the darkness.


End file.
